


Non Verbal Communication

by Yassandra



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yassandra/pseuds/Yassandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hugs are very important things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non Verbal Communication

**Author's Note:**

> A/N It's one-shot time again! Having signed up for Hurt/Comfort Bingo again I thought it was about time I opened my campaign.
> 
> This story been written for Round 6 of Bingo on the Hurt/Comfort LJ community, to incorporate the prompt 'hugs'. I hope you enjoy.

_**Non Verbal Communication** _

_You can't wrap love in a box, but you can wrap a person in a hug._

_(Author Unknown)_

* * *

Hugs had never really been a part of Jason's life before Atlantis.

It was strange, he mused sitting alone on the roof one evening while Hercules was propping up the bar of some local tavern or other and Pythagoras was at the library, that in his head his life was now split into two very distinct sections: _Before Atlantis_ and _Now_ (somehow he felt they needed capitalisation even if it was only in his thoughts). He looked in through the open balcony doorway with a soft smile at the little house he shared with his friends. _This_ was home and anything that had come before was a flat, empty dream by comparison; _this_ was where he belonged.

Not that he had felt that way back in England of course. Before Atlantis he would have said his life was normal – if a little barren at times. It was his own fault, he supposed. Ever since his Dad had disappeared he'd had a tendency to keep people at arm's length; a difficulty in allowing people to get close; in trusting them. "Trust Issues" someone (probably one of the social workers who had been assigned to look after him over the years) had written in large letters on his file – and Jason supposed they had been right (especially since he'd only seen it because he'd sneaked a look at his file when his latest social worker at the time hadn't been looking, just to see what they'd been writing about him).

It was true what he'd told Pythagoras on that first day (that day when he'd been scared and confused and utterly blown away by everything he was seeing and that was happening to him and Pythagoras had been so kind and welcoming); he'd never really felt like he fitted in back in the time before Atlantis; _had_ always been subconsciously searching for _something_ without any clear idea of what that something might actually be.

Growing up various people had tried to be kind but they'd always concentrated on his physical needs rather than his emotional ones, and physical contact had more often than not simply not been on the agenda – and Jason supposed, looking back now, that he had never really encouraged it anyway. He had vague memories of his Dad hugging him from time to time (like all of his memories of his Dad they were vague and hazy) but after his Dad had gone there had been lots of strange adults around (and some who were not so strange – but Mac had always been more of a "pat you on the shoulder" or "punch you on the arm" sort of guy than a "scoop you up for a cuddle") all trying to decide what was best for him (and since his own input hadn't seemed to be needed or wanted he had done his best to keep out of their way – had already begun the long process of fading into the background where he could remain unnoticed, because if no-one noticed him then no-one could hurt him).

By the time anyone had thought that a young child who had just lost his sole surviving parent might actually need physical comfort, that ship had already sailed, and the child who Jason had been had decided that, since he seemed to be little more than a nuisance to these people, he probably ought to try to stay as quiet and out of the way as possible and try not to be demanding in any way so as not to be a bother. So he had stood, stiff and awkward with his arms at his sides as a strange woman with a sweet smelling perfume (who he would later learn was the first social worker who had been assigned to him) wrapped her arms around him and attempted to give him a hug. It had been the same ever since really. Without really knowing why he would automatically tense whenever he was touched; more often than not going completely rigid and making no attempts to reciprocate. On the rare occasions he did respond he would bring one hand up to awkwardly pat whoever was doing the hugging on the back.

Physical contact of that sort made him uncomfortable; brought out the shyer, more uncertain side of his nature – and Jason _really_ didn't like to feel that awkward. Not that it happened all that often if he was honest. Most people steered clear of touching him. He supposed he had developed a reputation for being aloof and untouchable. Yet sometimes, watching a family at the park or the beach with barely concealed longing, he couldn't help but crave what he had missed out on. Sometimes in the still of the night when he had been all alone and lonely, he had longed for someone to comfort him; to show him the love and happiness that he knew other people experienced but had somehow eluded him over the years. So he had learned to comfort himself whenever he was feeling lost and vulnerable, wrapping his arms around his own torso in a sort of self-hug. It was a strange, self-comforting little gesture that could easily be made to look like he was simply folding his arms if anyone ever noticed what he was doing. Not that anyone ever did. By that point in his life he had simply ceased to register on most people's radar and those that did notice he was still around weren't exactly the touchy-feely type. The most contact he would have said he was comfortable with was a pat on the back or shoulder – either giving or receiving.

Yet the first time he had met Pythagoras he had thrown his arms around the mathematician (or at least attempted to) and buried his face in his friend's neck. Jason's only excuse was that he was both terribly grateful and incredibly relieved at the time. After all he had thought he was about to die before Pythagoras had pulled him in through the window; hanging on the edge of the balcony with his fingertips slipping more with every passing second he had felt fear like never before (terror really) and his relief at the fact that Pythagoras had in effect just saved his life had been far more emotional and demonstrative than he would usually indulge in.

If he were honest though as soon as that initial gratitude and relief had passed, Jason had found himself remarkably embarrassed by his actions and had expected that there would never be any sort of repeat performance from either himself or the mathematician (and given that Hercules had barely been tolerating his presence at the time, any sort of physical contact from _him_ had seemed highly unlikely). He had been wrong though – so very wrong. Both Pythagoras and Hercules, as it turned out, were physically demonstrative and affectionate men, not afraid to show how they were feeling with an arm draped over the shoulder or a swift hug.

Jason had begun to categorise all the hugs he received in his mind. There were the casual arm flung over the shoulder hugs as they were walking down the street together (and really these could come from either one of his friends) that simply told him that his friends were happy and wanted to share that with him; there were the heavy, drunken fumbling hugs when Hercules showed his affection and usually ended up passing out in the arms of whichever friend he was hugging; there were the "how are we not dead?" hugs that tended to come from Pythagoras in relief at the end of whatever misadventure they had found themselves in; there were the "I didn't think I'd ever see you again" hugs (which were remarkably similar to the "how are we not dead?" hugs only they could come from either one of his friends) usually delivered when one or the other of them had been missing for a period of time; there were the "I know you're homesick even if you're trying to hide it" hugs (Pythagoras again); there were the "I'm scared" hugs which were closely related to the "I know you're scared and I want to help" hugs; there were the "Jason stop being an idiot and accept that we care for you" comfort hugs and the "it's alright to be upset" hugs when things went wrong; there were the "we're still friends even if I _was_ cross at you" hugs – generally one armed affairs that Hercules gave after he'd recovered from a bout of lost temper; and there were the whole body hugs that simply spoke of love and affection without any words being used.

It hadn't always been easy though. At first Jason had reacted to his friends hugs in much the same way as he had always reacted in the time before Atlantis – by going rigid and looking uncomfortable, arms by his sides and eyes trying to focus on something (anything) other than the person doing the hugging. The first time it had happened had been with Pythagoras and the young mathematician had looked so upset at Jason's awkward response that it had nearly broken his heart on the spot. Hercules had glowered and dragged him off to the tavern later that night for a "chat" which had mainly consisted of the burly wrestler informing him in no uncertain terms of just how hurt Pythagoras would have been by his apparent rejection and suggesting (perhaps a little more forcefully than he should – but he had been very drunk after all) that Jason might like to reconsider his position. Not that Jason had needed the prompting – the look on Pythagoras' face had been enough.

The next time it had happened Jason had tried to respond naturally, bringing his arm up to pat his friend on the back but it had felt awkward and uncomfortable. Over time it had become easier as he had become more comfortable and by now Jason would have felt a little bereft if he had had to go without physical contact from either of his friends. And if either one of them noticed (which surely they must do) that he still didn't initiate contact anywhere near as much as either of them, they were kind enough not to mention it; putting it down to a defect in his upbringing or a personal idiosyncrasy or something (and Jason wasn't actually sure he wanted to know what that something was).

Yeah hugs were definitely one of the many things he had had to learn about since coming to Atlantis, Jason smiled softly to himself once again as he turned his gaze back towards the balcony, and he was sure that there were a few categories that he hadn't been able to classify yet.

"You look happy."

Jason looked up in surprise to find that Pythagoras had returned from the library while he was letting his mind wander.

"I was just thinking," he answered.

"Be careful," Pythagoras warned with some levity, "we all know where that could lead."

"Very funny," Jason answered with a wry grimace.

Although he had to admit to himself that Pythagoras probably had a point – some of his choices lately had been decidedly ropey. The latest, of course, had been the decision to help the young widow who had turned up on their doorstep with a pitiful handful of coins and a story of lost love and a missing father. As it had turned out the missing father had run off with an extremely jolly older lady from a farm in a valley to the east of Atlantis where they were living very happily. Before Jason could leave them and return to Atlantis with the news of her father's whereabouts to give to the young widow, one of the farm goats (the best one for milk to hear the lady talk) had got itself trapped on the riverbank. The old man was lame and the jolly lady's lower lip had started to tremble at the thought of losing what amounted to a quarter of her flock, so Jason had offered to help without really thinking about it. It should have been an easy task but then he really hadn't expected the bank to give way right after passing the wayward goat to the old man, sending him tumbling down into the remarkably deep river.

It hadn't been too much of a problem – Jason was a fairly strong swimmer after all, although the hampering effect of waterlogged clothes had slowed him down somewhat. The old man had been terribly apologetic and insisted on pressing a couple more small coins upon him for his trouble but it was clear that the jolly lady was less jolly at the thought of a young man dripping dirty river water over her nice clean floors so Jason had excused himself and begun to trudge home. Travelling while still soaked to the skin and having swallowed half a lungful of river water had been one of his less than stellar ideas. By the time he reached his own doors Jason had been thoroughly miserable, shivering with cold and feeling not quite well. Pythagoras had _not_ been impressed.

Of course as it turned out the river water he had swallowed had contained a little more than just dirt and had left him with the lovely present of a particularly unpleasant stomach bug. Pythagoras had manfully resisted saying "I told you so" on a number of occasions over the last few days and hadn't even berated Jason for coming home in a state yet again (much less taking the job on in the first place). Hercules of course had shown no such restraint. In the end though even he had taken pity on his friend when the queasiness had shown no signs of abating even after a few hours and had taken himself off to the tavern – where he had stayed for much of the past few days.

Jason couldn't really say he blamed him to be honest. After all it was no real fun watching a friend trying repeatedly to bring up his toenails into the latrine. He wouldn't have blamed Pythagoras for going either (had a feeling he might actually have suggested it in one of his loopier moments when the accompanying fever was high) but it seemed that the young genius was made of sterner stuff. He had simply given Jason a long suffering look and forced him to drink a little water to try to prevent him from becoming dehydrated.

It was then that Jason had been introduced to yet another category of hug: the "I know you're feeling really poorly and trying to be brave but I think you really need some comforting" hug. It had been delivered at a point when he had been feeling particularly awful, curled up into a foetal ball on his bed, feeling sore and sorry for himself (he had been retching so hard that even the muscles in his chest had hurt). Pythagoras had managed to persuade him (much against his better judgement because really the most comfortable position to be in had been curled up protecting his aching stomach) to sit up for a few minutes and at least _try_ to drink something ("Jason you will be more ill if you do not") and had then plonked himself down on the bed alongside his friend and pulled Jason in for a careful one armed hug, treating him as though he were a particularly fragile piece of glass.

It was very nice and actually far more comforting than Jason would have suspected but to be honest he would be just as happy if he never had to receive that sort of hug again; if he never felt rough enough to warrant that sort of hug again. The odds were slim though. He seemed to end up injured with depressing regularity and really his friends had seen him rough more often than he liked to think about.

"Are you feeling any better?" Pythagoras asked, sliding down the wall until he was sitting alongside Jason, hips touching.

Jason considered it for a moment. In truth he wasn't actually feeling too bad (which was certainly an improvement on the last few days) – more washed out and lethargic than anything. This morning, when Pythagoras had informed them that a trip to the agora was once again necessary, he had half-heartedly volunteered to go (or at least to accompany his friend) but Pythagoras had raised an eyebrow and politely but firmly suggested that perhaps it might be a better idea if he stayed quietly at home for today at least. Jason hadn't objected since he really was lacking energy. After Hercules had announced he had to go and see a man about a beetle (and when exactly had hearing that sort of sentence become the norm?) Jason had actually chosen to take himself back to bed, reasoning that since he was so darned tired a short nap might do wonders for his energy levels. As it was he had slept on and off for most of the day. He had finally woken up properly to find much to his chagrin that it was early evening. Still he supposed that he wouldn't have slept so much if he hadn't needed it. He _was_ feeling an awful lot better as a result of the extra rest he had to admit and, having found a note from Pythagoras explaining that he had gone to do a little research at the library and Hercules had gone to the tavern, had come out onto the balcony to enjoy the early evening air.

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm better… a lot better."

"Good," Pythagoras said with a bright smile. "I am pleased to hear it."

"How was the library?" Jason asked.

"Quiet," Pythagoras responded. "I was told off for making too much noise."

Jason couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him which Pythagoras returned with a laugh of his own.

"Actually I came to tell you that Hercules has finished preparing supper," the mathematician continued with a smile.

Jason blinked in surprise. Just how lost in thought had he been? He hadn't heard either Pythagoras _or_ Hercules come home, much less the noises that usually accompanied the preparation of supper.

"Hercules?" he blurted. "I expected him to be falling off a bar stool somewhere by now."

"Oi I heard that!" Hercules' exclamation came from the doorway.

Both young men looked up at the sound to see him standing, leaning against the doorframe.

"Why is it always me?" Hercules went on with the same level of complaint in his voice.

"That is something that we ask ourselves every morning," Pythagoras teased.

Hercules grunted his annoyance.

"I'm putting supper on the table now," he growled, turning away and stomping back into the kitchen.

Pythagoras turned to Jason with a smile, his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Do you feel like eating something?" he asked, knowing that in spite of his protestations that he was fine now Jason's stomach was still more than a little delicate.

Jason hesitated for a moment, trying to work out whether he had an appetite or not. At least the mere thought of food was no longer turning his stomach.

"Hercules has kept it light," Pythagoras went on, noticing his friend's hesitation. "It is only a little soup and some bread. He thought that you might find it easier to eat something fairly simple."

Jason smiled and nodded, once again touched by the kindness shown by both his friends and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. At the doorway to the balcony he paused and leant against the frame, watching his two companions with affection, his smile soft and his eyes warm. Pythagoras had crossed the room to join Hercules and was currently laying the table. As Jason watched, Pythagoras said something too soft for him to hear. Hercules smiled in response and threw a friendly arm around the young genius' shoulders as he responded in an equally low voice. The hug spoke of friendship and affection and long years spent in each other's company. For a moment Jason almost felt like an outsider until Hercules turned with an open smile and a gesture for him to join them.

Yes, hugs _had_ never really been a part of Jason's life before Atlantis but they certainly were now – and he wouldn't change it for the world.


End file.
